


Grandeur Incarnate

by Jasamie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Doctor John Watson, Jack the Ripper Murders, John Watson's Blog, M/M, Murder, My First Work in This Fandom, Mystery, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-09-25 07:16:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20372830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jasamie/pseuds/Jasamie
Summary: Even though Watsons had to deal with sherlock gone for two years at one point. Having to solve a crime or at least begin it on his own was a whole different ballpark! A case that takes immediate precedence to be solved after an unknown killer who has surgical skills unlike what the doc has seen, a client goes to Watson of all people to help decipher whom The Ripper is; meanwhile sherlock is stuck on the island where his sister remains incarcerated. Having tea and conversation waiting for the storm to pass. The area is closed off and they have to make do. How will the doc fair without the 24/7 guidance of sherlock, and has the secret to deduction been instilled enough to find the killer who's gotten away more then once.





	1. For Granted

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic for sherlock here. I had this idea after hearing about the possibility of being a season five and wanted to write my own continuation of the story! I'll do more research, readings about things to make this enjoyable to you as well as for me! Enjoy!  
I do not own these characters or who they represent. Only the story line.

Today was just another visit to play his violin with Eurus. Have a short conversation perhaps and dwell on some unsolved cases. He went through the usual procedures, checked, scanned, scanned again and a quick pat check. Never one for any sort of touchy contact, but if it meant walking into that room hed sustain the nearly unbearable physical portion of their security. 

“Finally, “ Sherlock sighed dropping his arms to his sides, “I am going in now,” He picked up his violin case and walked to the revolving door. The deafening screeches of that concrete have become as routine as his visits. As if some spark in pavlov's dog his smile began to spread across his face as he enters the room. 

“Hello,” Eurus says standing up.

“Hello oh dear dear sister of mine.” Sherlock says settling the case on the ground next to the door. 

“Yes, oh is that, are we playing something special today?” She inquired. 

They spoke for some time about the most recent piece he composed. One unlike his last one, Eurus looked at the paper and shook her head. “Just play it already, lets see whats new with you!” She sat on her bed cross legged and let out a soft laugh.

Sherlock simply nodded, “I present to you-”

Eurus cut him off quickly, “Oh do just play it already!” Sherlock laughed in response and began his own fully composed piece. Eurus shut her eyes and swayed to the notes drifting through the glass.

“Oh oh, Sherlock, it isn't, is it!” She gasped clasping her hands together. Sherlock stopped momentarily, but went on to finish. Once he was done he put the instrument away.

Without turning around he inquired seemingly perplexed, “What?” Eurus eyes went from a shine to a realization.

“You don’t know, or don't realize. Oh, oh dear Sherlock.” She sighed tapping on her chest.

Sherlock turned around and sat on the ground, “What in the graves are you talking of Eurus.”

Eurus mouthed a few letters, not wanting to make it too obvious. Then she fogged up a small area of the glass and drew a small heart.

“I- you what?” Sherlock laughed, “Preposterous.” 

“Is it that girl from the lab? Oh no or is it Mr.Sheriff, wait wait no no no…” She stopped and looked about as if the hints were in that room. “Is it the soldier nurse-”

“Doctor,” Sherlock corrected, but did nothing to deny this. Eurus simply smiled.

“You do that you know.” She said laying on her bed.

“What?” Sherlock responded defensively.

“You, correct people. Always have, but you also tend to deny something. But youre not-” 

“I’m not defending it cause if I did you’d just make it a point to tease me ‘why getting so defensive sherlock.’ Listen close, he’s not gay.” He says as if to chastise both her and himself.

“Oh?” She simply responded, “How about bi? Never said anything about that did he?” She said a small smile slipping onto her face.

Sherlock opened his mouth. Then shut it… that question never came across. Of all the little details he could get off of anyone, sexuality was hardly one of them, it wasn’t physical. It was purely chemical… or that’s what everything he ever studied seemed to believe. As well as most scientists. And he did enjoy his scientific experiments. 

“Alright alright, it was good to see you Eurus, say, does next thursday work for you?” He asked.

“Thursday? Not sure, I have a bit on my plate… fine fine. Thursday then.” She laid back down on her bed and hummed the song sherlock had played on his violin.

Sherlock grabbed his case, went to the door and gave it a firm knock, “Thursday my Dear Eurus.” 

[end scene]

John placed down the newspaper he had in his hands and stretched in his chair. Then he looked around for a few moments. Deciding to pick up the paper again, reread a few sections. Nothing really stood out too much, nothing except the agonizing ticking of the clock on sherlocks desk. 

There was a short buzz of the doorbell. Watson shot up and looked around the room. Sherlock still hasn't arrived. 

A woman wearing a long sleeved shirt, pants with unbearable holes and what looked like a series of bruises covering hands, knuckles, part of her chin.

“Are you, Doctor Watson?” she asked seemingly unable to stand up.

Watson helped her quickly into the chair answering along the way, “I am, and you?” 

“A client, hopefully… and Sherlock?” She asked.

“Out, I thought he said it was an off day…” he murmured more to himself.

“This has to be handled today.” She said beginning to shake.

“Oh-okay okay well, tell me your story, what's happened. From the beginning.”

“I woke up- like any other day but…” she took a deep breath and gripped onto the chair she was sitting on.

“In that brief moment the room was darker than usual, there were bullet holes in the wall as I shot up. Way to quickly for my liking. This was not my room, or any room a living person would be in. It was a factory, a running one but a void of people. I quietly worked my way around the machinery, seeming to grind up something, meat maybe, I don't know if it was far too dark. The one thing I remember was someone calling themselves The Ripper. There was graffiti inside, imagery of rotting corpses, but just in front of it, as if it was on display was a body. A body, it- was mutilated even their throat was cut.”

“That’s all I can remember clearly,” she finished. 

“What about the bruises?” Watson asked.

“The- oh those. I am not sure, I think I managed to get away… I fractured my foot at some point… I am a practicing nurse so I sorted what I could, but I had to bring this to someone; capable?.” She said wrapping her arms around herself.

“Why not take this to the police?” Watson questioned.

“Because, I don’t know who it was. I don’t remember anything beyond being at home. The persons name, face, voice. Nothing. He said I owed it, i I don't owe them a damn thing…” the girl began shaking.

“Alright, alright give me a moment.” Watson walked into the kitchen and quickly dialed sherlock.

“Sherlock, where are you- hello?” Watson said.

“I’m at the harbor. There’s a storm advisory apparently. Looks like mostly in this area on watch. What is it?” Sherlock asked looking at the clouds rolling around the sky.

“It’s, a case. If you can't get here that is going to be a big problem.” Watson replied anxiously.

“A case, oh good fun, why is it a problem?” he asked.

“Well one, the client says she needs our help now.” He answered.

“Now as in now and not now as in when I get there?”

“SHERLOCK- no can you do this through a call or something, I can’t take on this case alone.” Watson muttered through the receiver.

“Oh come on, you've worked on these cases with me for four years now, some of that logical reasoning and deduction should of embedded itself into you brain by now. I can try to help as much as I can but if the client as you say needs our help today you'll have to begin this one yourself.” Sherlock responded.

“No- I can’t, sherlock- sherlock.” Watson shut the phone and imagined punching that high cheeked bastard where he stood. “Ugh you can't-” He let out a defeated sigh and walked back into the room.

“We will take your case. Any information if you remember or can provide just tell me, but firstly, do you remember where this factor is?” Watson asked grabbing his coat, his phone and the hat. Nah opt out of that actually, he tossed the hat back onto the desk. 

“I do, I think,” The women replied getting up and shuffling to the door.

“Right off we go Mrs?”

“Ms.Hull, after you sir.” She answered following behind watson and telling him as much as she knew about the place and the directions she went. Sadly they went by foot. According to her she came to them on foot so retracing it back would be much much easier that way.


	2. Professionals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving at the scene of the crime John deals with the police on his own while investigating the crime scene with his own eyes. It is an odd feeling for one such as himself to do this on his own, and he isn't quite sure of his own abilities nor himself. While trying to deal with scene examination his client manages to slip through his fingers that he must move to chase quickly after if he wants to have a chance to stop this "Ripper" before another innocent person becomes the next victim.

After a short while John and his client reached just outside their destination that was already swarmed with police vehicles and an ambulance. John walked towards the scene and stood right next to Lestrade. 

“Evening John, where’s Sherlock?” He asked briefly looking past John before refocusing his attention towards the two in front of him, “and who is she?”

“Ah yes, this is Ms.Hull. Current client and Sherlock is a bit held up at the moment.” John answered.

“Well, since you are here already we may need some of your field expertise on this one.” Lestrade responded in a tone so unlike one that John was used to.

“Eh- yes, of course. What is it you would like me to take a look at sir?” John asked moving under the police tape as Lestrade raises it for him. 

Ms.Hull stays near a few other police officers for fear of her safety.

Inside of the building Lestrade leads John to the wall that Ms.Hull had previously described. The body was more gruesome than he had even dared to imagine. “Why-why did you need my expertise specifically sir?” John questioned turning his back away from the scene.

“Well, since you want the specifics. Our team has done some short inspections of the body while documenting the scene. They seem to believe that a surgeon is involved, or at the very most responsible for the death of this woman.” Lestrade answered.

At which point John turned around for a closer examination, “A surgeon? You’re sure?” 

Lestrade shook his head, “As sure as our authorized professionals. Yes it was a surgeon.”

John walked over to the body, she was naked leaned against the wall. She was left as if on display. Mutilations in numerous areas across her body. The smallest most conscious cuts of the womens face; from her eyebrows, to her lips in multiple cuts. Her arm was dislocated from her body, her skin above her collar bones had been cut entirely across her chest. Pieces of skin cut off from her thighs to her abdomen, and what looked as if her stomach was near scooped out. From the look of the smaller portions she had been alive during most of the process. Which in itself was horrible indeed.

“CONSTABLE! LESTRANGE!” yelled an officer from across the factory, “You may want to come see this!”

Within moments both John and Lestrange made their way across the factory. There were a few machines running which seemed to be running nothing through them, but near the back where the switches were there was a chair with clothing, and what seemed to be the pieces of skin that the “Ripper” had cut off of the girl. From previous experience it was clear to John that these were indeed from the girl, the scene itself was recent within the day thanks to the information of both the body and the witness to the scene itself. The clothes were folded neatly, clearly the girls clothes, uncut, clean, no purse, or pockets, or known ID. It was clear that John would have to wait for a callback from the police for an ID. Although based on the clothing he deemed that she may of been either an artist or a teacher. 

“Alright, here's the deal. Get her ID and phone me as soon as you can. The client I mentioned said she woke her up at the scene and gave me information not knowing that you guys would be here so quick or at all. I am a tad bit worried about her safety and if you would be willing to spare an officer.” John said making his way away from the scene and towards the exit with Lestrange by his side.

“Right, did you get anything from the body?” Estranged asked. “Answer first, then we will talk about the deal.”

“I can tell that it was professional. Either a learned surgeon it seems near possible. But it's not like I can tell if they went to a school or if it may have even been possible that they had family who was a surgeon that they learned from. It is a consistent practice that some surgeons who are known for being a family of doctors would go about teaching their kids both body biology as well as surgical skills. At most I can tell you that they kept one area clean which seems more likely for it to be someone who either is or was a practicing surgeon.” John concluded turning towards lestrange.

“Obviously they're practicing watson-” Lestrange began.

“No. I do not mean practicing like that, I mean that they were educated in ways that resulted in exams of sorts. Where cleanliness was involved, and needing to do so became a habit.” John finished.

“Ah- alright.” Lestrange nodded. “Follow me, we can talk to some of my officers into protecting you client, Ms?”

“Ms.Hull, I am hoping that she doesn't go to far as I am worried that the killer may come back for her. She may also need to stop at the hospital because she did not seem well.” John stated.

Lestrange and John both exited the building as the paramedics entered the building. John looked around as they went to talk to some of the officers however he did not see Ms.Hull. It was odd that she would leave at all considering her state. He walked over to the last cop he saw Ms.Hull by and asked himself, “excuse me, have you seen a girl who seemed bruised and had torn clothes here?” 

“Oh, was she a friend of yours? An ambulance took her to the hospital. She just collapsed here on the ground with hardly a sound and seemed pretty bad.” He reported as Lestrange came up next to John.

“Which hospital?” They both questioned.

“Uh- Ritten Hill Hospital sir.” The man replied.

John took a moment to think before asking both Lestrange and the Police officer to accompany him to the hospital for both a formal investigation into the case with a victim who has so far been the only surviving one from a killer who may or may not work in a hospital.


End file.
